


Over the Alps

by Krakenprincess



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical Hetalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krakenprincess/pseuds/Krakenprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In march 1799, Austria finds himself on his border with Switzerland, waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Alps

The Austrian soldiers stood, waiting. They had been warned that a big string of fugitives was to be expected, fighting their way through the rest of the snow on these last days of March while fleeing from their lands. The waiting men weren't the most informed on what was going on on the other side of the mountains, but they knew enough about war to understand that if the civilians were fleeing, then it had to be bad. They were soldiers after all. And so they stood and waited for them to arrive. They had to. After all, they were coming from the lands under French control, and that was enemy territory. They had to make absolutely sure that these were civilians they were intercepting, and nothing but civilians. But they always were, and the waiting and interception had become a sort of routine, and this evening would have been just like all the others before them, had it not been for _him_.

  
He had arrived in the late afternoon, with nothing more than a fancy horse and a name too ridiculous to be true let alone of aristocratic descent, but he carried that haughty and disdainful look so typical to the nobs, and they somehow knew that he was important. They couldn't explain it properly, and had stopped trying to do so after a while, but they could feel his presence in their very bones, and so they had let him stay with them, not daring to ask what it was that he was waiting for.  
Had they asked, they would have been in for a disappointment, as Austria didn't know why he was there, either. He just had a vague idea that something was about to happen that night, something that required him to be present. It had been one of those things, those things he just knew, as a country, and so he had given in to the urge, and come all the way to this godforsaken pass hidden between high mountains, where the snow was still persistently clinging to the ground and with the air's coldness biting him despite the long coat. This better be good he thought, for he'd rather be sitting in a comfortable chair, miles away from this place, sipping a cup of hot coffee.  
  
Suddenly, his horse lifted its head and a murmur went through the soldiers; the fugitives had arrived.  
  
It was an exceptionally large group this time, most of them able-bodied young men fleeing the country after being drafted into the French army. The soldiers knew that one had to be desperate for choosing the dishonor of desertion over having to serve a country one despised. So they didn't move, waiting for the long trail of people to reach them instead, not wanting to add to their humiliation. Besides, the fugitives had overcome the worst by now, leaving the natural barrier of the Alps behind them. They would pass the soldiers, slowly, with the minimal contact, heading further into the country. It was routine.  
But this group was extraordinarily slow, somehow, as if they were reluctantly dragging their feet, not quite decided to leave their country behind. One of the soldiers commented on it, directing Austria's attention to it. He frowned, scrutinizing the advancing group. It wasn't their feet they were dragging, and it appeared that they hadn't left their country behind after all.

  
Lightly digging his heels into the sides of his horse, he pressed it forward in a jog trot, going up to meet the approaching group. This unexpected action stirred a moment of alarm in the soldiers who quickly cocked their riffles, but a lazy hand gesture from the man on the horse quickly settled them down again. However he had managed that was beyond them, but they could see that it had no effect on the Swiss men, who suddenly stopped in their tracts and huddled together as if they were protecting something in their midst.  
Austria only halted his horse once he was standing right in front of the group of men. They looked exhausted, battered form the long march in bad conditions, and most of them had brought nothing with them but the clothes on their back. Yet, they still managed to look defiant, ready to jump forward and defend themselves against this strange man. Or better, ready to defend the figure sitting on the ground behind them, as it was as important to them as the rider was to the soldiers. For a moment the tension grew as Austria couldn't make up his mind how to react properly, but it dropped as a raspy voice spoke up, addressing the men.  
  
"It's alright, he won't hurt us."  
  
If as one, the Swiss turned towards the sitting figure in concern, intending to help the young man to his feet, when they were, in turn, brushed off by a hand gesture. "Go on, don't worry about me. I have something to discuss with the gentleman, anyway. I will catch up, I promise."  
  
Austria could see how reluctant they were to leave the young man behind, but they complied, nonetheless, each one shooting a warning glance up at him as they passed. He watched them, as they slowly made their way towards the soldiers, and beckoned the soldiers to let them past.  
Then he focused his attention back on Switzerland, who was still sitting on the frozen ground, his head bent forwards in what could appear to be humility, but was nothing but exhaustion. He was too thin, his hair grubby and even unrulier than usual. He was covered in bruises, some fresher than others, and some bandages made of old cloth, probably offered by the fugitive men that had taken him with them. The clothes that he was wearing could barely still be called that, offering no protection against the biting wind, and his fingers, laid out on the ground in some support, were half frozen, slowly turning blue as he was sitting, silently, not even bothering to repress his shivering anymore.  
  
 _You are dying_ , Austria thought, but instead, said, "You are not supposed to leave your lands."  
  
Switzerland didn't look up, simply replied with, "I'm the Confederacy," as if it said it all. And it did. The Confederacy had no lands anymore, was not even supposed to exist, since France had declared Switzerland to be a Republic, a loyal servant to the French cause. But France had been a fool to think it would be so easy, and Switzerland was too stubborn to give up even after too many defeats to be counted anymore. Some things never changed.  
  
"Even then, you should be over there," Austria mused, but his voice had lost all harshness. Somehow, it was painful to see him like this. _They should let you die_ , he thought, but said, "Why did they take you with them?"  
  
Switzerland coughed. "I need to see someone. General von Steiger, he's said to be in Vienna right now and I need..." finally Switzerland looked up, wearing a desperate, pleading expression that Austria could have sworn he saw for the first time, "... and I need help."  
  
Austria let out a soft sigh, then remarked softly, "We sent help, last Fall."  
  
"I know, and I am grateful," Austria couldn't help but wonder what France had done to him to leave him this mellow, "but now he's declared war on you, and is drafting my men into his army, in order to protect... the other one," here, Switzerland spat out, leaving a little pink fleck in the snow in front of him, "and they'd rather flee than do that. I need to find von Steiger. He'll know what to do with them. I'm sure. So please, I beg of you, help me."  
  
There was that pleading expression again, and Austria almost said yes. But it wasn't that easy. He'd need permission from his superiors, his Emperor, and they would need benefits, something they could balance against the possible loss of troops and money. So instead, he straightened himself again and opened the negotiations,"What can you give me?"  
  
Switzerland snorted at the question, "What can I give you, indeed. Nothing but lands to fight on, a battleground far away from your precious territory. And these men. They're good lads, they'll fight until the end, they'll follow your command."  
  
Austria looked back over his shoulder, over to the the men that were now making their way into the valley. To this day, the Swiss had a good reputation as mercenaries, even if they had given up the trade after that horrible incident in Paris a decade ago. He looked back at Switzerland, "And you?"  
  
Switzerland bowed his head again, if in shame or resignation was unclear. Then he replied, "So will I."

**Author's Note:**

> In the fall of 1798, acting in response to a call for help, Kaiser Franz of Austria sent an army into the Graubünden, Switzerland. The adherents to the French cause fled.
> 
> The coalition of European Powers (Austria, England, Prussia, Russia), declared war on France in March, 1799, following Bonaparte's declaration of war on Austria in February.
> 
> France invoked the terms of its alliance with Switzerland and called upon the Republic to provide 16'000 men for the war, but the "great neighbour and friend" was by now so universally hated that recruitment yielded only 600 men, as many of the military age fled over the borders in spite of the severe penalities if caught.


End file.
